


Instinctual Impropriety

by theriseofswolo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1880s, Alpha Ben Solo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Breeding, Courting Rituals, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Mutual Pining, Omega Rey (Star Wars), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period Typical Attitudes, Size Kink, Virgin Rey (Star Wars), comedy of manners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25437457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theriseofswolo/pseuds/theriseofswolo
Summary: WANTED, a respectable, accomplished, intelligent young lady of at least twenty years as COMPANION for widow. Must be single and unmated. O preferred but B is acceptable. Inquire at 120 Mount St.As an orphaned, destitute omega, Rey has little prospects until she acquires a position as a lady's companion to the eccentric dowager, Leia Organa. When the seemingly mysterious Lord Ben Solo arrives, however, Rey begins to think she's bitten off more than she can chew. In more ways than one.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 126
Kudos: 472





	1. Ericaceae

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is mostly just exposition and world-building so I'm sorry if it's boring but please enjoy!  
> Also, I've tried my very best but historical inaccuracies probably abound, please forgive me.

Late September, 1886.

It had taken more than twelve hours of nonstop travel for Rey to finally reach London. 

Of course, fearing she would reach the city after nightfall, she woke well before dawn and sat upon the back of a two-horse cart, courtesy of Farmer Owen — with whom she had formed an agreement with several days prior — and lay among the great piles raw wool and heather watching as Bowland Fells slowly faded from her line of sight. 

Being that the journey took well over seven hours on a good day, Rey, when not napping (and Farmer Owen very kindly placing his hat over her sleeping head, fearing for her delicate complexion), took the time to reminisce and ponder what she greatly hoped would be the home which she would never return. 

The barren moorlands of Lancashire were certainly not the worst place one could grow up in, and her caretakers certainly weren’t as unkind as they could have been, especially to an orphaned girl of her supposedly inferior designation, yet she certainly could not muster up any sort of excess sentimentality which would have her miss it. 

She was the only omega in Jackshead Abbey’s rather unfortunate orphanage. A fact for which she was either relentlessly teased, for her smaller size and strange, owlish disposition, or routinely punished, for the inherent sin which apparently befitted her. 

She was often left to her own devices for this and as such spent much of her time reading, against the regulations employed by the Archbishop himself (or so the sisters said, claiming the neat lettering on the doorway to the library reading ‘no persons of the designation OMEGA are to be admitted under any circumstances’ was written by the very man).

She supposed, given the destination which awaited her that day, it worked out as well as it could have given the circumstances. 

By law, as a protected citizen of British Empire, she was required to remain under the supervision of Mother Superior until she was married (never mind the likelihood of a single alpha of marriageable age ever entering an abbey located approximately somewhere in the endless miles of peat and rocks) or, as per the Unmated Omega’s Employment Act of 1880, hired in a position appropriate to her constitution. 

Granted, she probably could have done reasonably well under the care of the abbey — though she was strictly forbidden from becoming a nun — but as she had looked out at the barren landscape of what _should_ have felt like home some weeks ago, she had been assaulted with a vision of herself, still pulling up various bits and bobbles from the earth, white-haired and wrinkled, knuckles, gnarled with age, smacked once again by surly Abbess, and became so frightened, so consumed with loneliness, that she decided once and for all that she would no longer stay in good consciousness. 

She first considered sending an advertisement to all newspapers within a reasonable distance, but, considering the sparse population and even sparser publication firms thereof, she instead sent a letter of inquiry attached with a request to pass on it to whomever might be interested to an employment agency in Liverpool.

Three weeks later a letter arrived — which Sister Amret all but slammed into the table where Rey had been sitting— consisting of several newspaper clippings haphazardly pasted to a piece of paper, the town and city names they corresponded to messily written beside them in red ink.

Most ranged from unsavory (seeking: Os as RESEARCH PARTICIPANTS in groundbreaking ! scientific research) to somewhat unsettling (wanted: Young, pleasant smelling O for well off gentlemen) but one, in particular, marked boldly as LONDON, stood out as more than promising. 

_WANTED, a respectable, accomplished,_

_intelligent young lady of at least twenty years as_

_COMPANION for widow. Must be single and unmated._

_O preferred but B is acceptable. Inquire at 120 Mount St._

A companion to a wealthy older woman was one of, if not _the_ most desirable position for a single woman of any designation, or so Rey had gathered from mentions of the subject in reading and conversation. What was better than to be given room, board, and pay to simply be a confidant and friend to someone with more money than she knew what to do with?

Not a moment after reading the advertisement did she scramble to reply and write what she hoped to be a convincing letter and summarization of her (admittedly, somewhat exaggerated) accomplishments, neatly addressed to what she imagined to be an adorable London townhouse fit for a lonely dowager. 

Two weeks later another letter arrived for her, this time addressed with fine, swirling script.

_Miss Niima,_

_My mistress has been greatly impressed by the character and intelligence portrayed through your letter which set you apart from your fellow applicants and wishes for me to continue a correspondence to further assess you as a potential candidate for the position. In addition to the survey questions listed below, I will be requiring a letter of reference in regard to the morality of your character._

_Thank you and I look forward to our future communications,_

_Cedric Threepio_

_Head Butler_

The questions were listed in a neat script as follows:

  * _How often might you find yourself indisposed?_


  * _Have you a history of adverse reactions to a wide variety of persons?_


  * _How do others tend to receive your person?_


  * _Are you prone to frenzy?_


  * _In addition to the academic accomplishments listed in your previous letter, what other tasks are you capable of (exempli gratia, tea making, mending, cleaning etcetera)?_


  * _Are you amenable to semi-frequent travel over long distances?_



Despite the rather strict nature that is inherent to a religious order, it was quite obvious to Rey that the man was asking of her personal, private indiscretions specific to her status as an omega in the most roundabout way possible in the first few questions.

Something which, though probably quite important in regards to her being a permanent member of a household, still made her embarrassed enough to not return to the missive until later on that night.

Her first heat had come some seven years earlier, a few months following her sixteenth birthday. 

The affair was, as expected, unpleasant for all parties involved. 

Rey had, through the nine entire days it lasted, insisted she was perfectly fine and could very well withstand the cramps, thank you very much, but when slick soaked her dress and pooled beneath her as she kneeled for morning prayer in chapel she was forcefully sequestered in one of the largely unused cells meant for monks practicing isolation and holy reflection. 

Tied to the wooden bed with only a pathetic excuse for a pillow as support, she withstood the lecturing of the mother superior, and at least a dozen nuns, and was doused in enough holy water that surely took away from the baptism of several infants. 

Several visiting clergymen also made it their own personal mission to speak to her of the innate, carnal sin which lay within her, though strangely enough, they could only do so behind the closed door of her, then, new prison, rattling the locked doorknob and breathing with a frightful intensity, all at some point in their spiels were pulled away by their ears (or so Rey had pictured at the time) courtesy of one of the sisters.

It had taken about half of the first day for her to chew through the leather restraints, only for her, upon realizing that under no circumstances was she to be freed and she the fact that she had nothing on her person with which to pick the lock, to spend the remainder of her stay in a horrific combination of boredom and an unexplained, searing need centered in the forbidden place between her legs.

By the end, the pillow had finally lost the remainder of it’s stuffing, sent off honorably with its very own funeral pyre. 

The following heats, which came every three or so months with little ceremony, took about the same course, albeit with remarkably less protest on her part. 

It was these events, however, which made Rey pause in her endeavor, if just for a moment. What _will_ she do when she inevitably goes into heat during her employment? It was with this in mind that Rey responded.

_Mr. Threepio,_

_I am very pleased to make your acquaintance (even if it is over letter), I do hope you are keeping yourself well. I am so very happy that your mistress has found my application agreeable enough to consider me for the position. Per your request, I have placed a letter written by the Mother Superior of Jackshead with my own._

_Here are my answers to the survey:_

  * _I am of good health, sound mind, and am a hard worker and therefore do not see myself either falling ill outside of what is expected of my condition. I am typically indisposed around the second week of September, December, March, and June for a period of seven to ten days. Aside from this, I am ready to work however much and long as your mistress may deem suitable for her needs._


  * _I do admit, due to the isolated location of my home, I have not come in contact with a great many people as one might in a city such as London where you and your mistress reside but I consider myself to be generally friendly and agreeable and find, from the experience of those whom I have personally come in contact with, to have never had any particularly strong feelings towards their scents._


  * _I am told that I come off as a kind, caring, nurturing, quiet person of a slightly eccentric disposition. Due to my designation, as per my first letter, I am often separated from my peers (of whom are all betas with the occasional visiting alpha clergyman) and thus may suffer from a slight social ineptitude. I am hoping, however, that under the employment of your mistress that this affliction will ease with time._


  * _I have never been hysterical, frantic, or distressed in excess or to the point of disturbing those around me. I am, perhaps, prone to a bit of excitability but I think of that as a marker of the vigor of youth rather than a negative quality._


  * _Per the education provided by the abbey, I have learned all the skills which befit that of a person of my sex and designation including: sewing, embroidery, cooking, baking, cleaning, laundering, etiquette, hostessing, etcetera. If needed, I am a very quick learner and hope to make myself as useful to your mistress as possible._


  * _I do admit I myself have never traveled a distance of more than perhaps two miles but am still very much willing to do so should it be required of me. I am unaware if I am prone to sickness from travel but regardless will not find it as an influence upon my actions._



_I look forward to your next letter,_

_Rey Niima_

From then on, dozens of letters were sent back and forth, further acquainting Rey with her prospective position, still unnamed possible mistress, and the kind, if overly formal Threepio. On the third month following her initial letter of inquiry she received such:

_Miss Niima,_

_I am delighted to say my mistress has approved you for the position as her companion and wishes for you to arrive in London before the week is out. With this letter, I have provided a ten-pound banknote for any travel expenses you may require. Please arrive at the London Paddington Railway Station by ten o'clock post meridiem where I will escort then escort you to the house._

_I look forward to finally meeting you in person,_

_Cedric Threepio_

_Head Butler_

And thus, to Preston she went. 

By the time she and farmer Owen arrived, it was one o'clock in the afternoon and, with well wishes and exchanges of good luck, she made the hour walk to the station, taking the time to indulge in buying a pastry from a sleepy bakery shopgirl as she waited for the train to Manchester London road.

The stream train was certainly a sight to behold, boldly colored and much larger and louder than she had imagined it would be, her ears nearly bursting as it barreled into the platform area. The station itself was rather small, despite its relative emptiness for the hour, so it was unsurprising that there was no staff to privy her to any information she could possibly need and therefore simply sat in an empty train car, plopping down her bags and reading for the remainder of the one hour trip.

Manchester was quite a bit larger than Preston’s, and much more busy, the pandemonium causing her to immediately become lost.

A young man, a beta, smartly dressed in a crewman’s uniform, took her ticket, pointed her towards a locomotive somehow even larger than the last, labeled as GREAT WESTERN, and gingerly helped her into one of the finer cars clearly marked with a classical Grecian ohm in gold paint along the side. 

She was excused in the first instance as she had no way of knowing which was which, but it seemed as though major railways such as this one were much stricter in enforcing the separation of designations for the health and wellbeing of both passengers and staff.

The only other person, among the rows of cushioned, royal blue seats within was a small old man, his head tipped back and mouth agape as he lightly snored.

From the front, where she stood, he smelled of lavender and mothballs.

Rey had not met many fellow members of her designation, perhaps one or two passing travelers or the occasional hospice patient, neither of whom she was allowed to come in contact with and the comfort brought on by this man’s scent was enough to blur her vision with unshed tears.

Wiping at her eyes, a little harder than probably necessary, she took a seat near the middle of the car, at the window, placing down her bags, removing her boots and tucking her stockinged feet beneath her legs, watching as a man in official dress drew a speaking-trumpet to his lips and rang the station bell,

“Transport to Paddington Station leaving immediately!”

Rey heard a throaty snort behind her as the noise of both the man and the train’s meandering forward no doubt roused the elder gentleman from his slumber. 

She turned a moment later, once the surrounding brick made way for daylight upon the city of Manchester, only to find that her fellow omega was still very much asleep.

Hours passed, Rey occupying her time with various handbooks and guides for the city of London (acquired via mail order), lazily marking off things she thinks she would eventually like to see with a stubby pencil as towns gave way to the autumnal English countryside. 

As the sun fell below the horizon, the pinks and oranges fading into the black of night, cheerfully decorated with the numerous, inharmoniously placed stars, the silent sanctuary she shared with the unnamed old man was interrupted by a young crewman (similar in both dress and disposition to the boy who had helped her earlier) who, with his nose and mouth covered by a gingham handkerchief and a small ladder in his arm, stepped up to the light fixture above them, turning the tiny knob,

“Is this level alright, miss?” 

“Oh!” she was slightly taken aback by the interrupted silence, “Uhm-”   


“Could you turn it down just a bit, my boy? These old eyes, you know,” Rey turned to find that wonder of wonders, the old man was fully awake and alert, tugging his red waistcoat down as he sat up.

“Of course, sir,” when he finished he nodded towards the both of them, folded up the ladder, and moved to what Rey assumed was the next car.

“Are kerosene fumes dangerous?” she couldn’t help but look where the young man had left.

“Hm? Oh, no, I don’t believe so at least,” his eyes, even from her vantage point were quite large, now covered with a pair of thick spectacles.

“Oh…” Rey took a moment to think, “what was the handkerchief for then?”

“My goodness girl, where in God’s name did you come from,” he chuckled.

“The abbey in Bowland Fells.” 

The man paused at that, sobering.

“So he doesn’t smell us, you see, even though he was a beta,” he nodded, more to himself than to her, “I suppose it’s probably just protocol but an enclosed space such as this with people like you and me? Could cause a frenzy, and we wouldn’t want that.”

“Oh...I guess,”

“You had better be more careful with yourself, Miss…?”

“Niima, Rey Niima,” Rey rose, wobbling with the movement of the train as she walked over to shake the old man’s hand. 

“Rey, it is very, very nice to meet you,” his palm warm and pleasantly weathered, “now I must tell you, as an older, wiser omega to a pretty girl such as yourself: you  _ must _ try to be more careful in the city, the world, the _ real  _ world is much more dangerous outside the abbey walls, scents are very important in our daily lives, do you understand?”

“I- yes, I suppose.”

“Very good,” he released her hand to reach into his coat pocket, “here, please take my card, and don’t hesitate to call should you have need.”

“Oh,” the square of cardstock was printed with ‘Dr. Gial Ackbar, Professor of Marine biology at  The Chancellor, Masters, and Scholars of the University of Cambridge, Admiral of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria’s Royal Navy.’ along with two addresses, “thank you.”

“Of course, my girl, Now if you don’t mind I shall be going back to sleep.”

The remainder of the journey was spent in silence.

A little after nine o’clock they finally reached the station, which was much larger and more ornate than Rey had expected, as well as being much busier than she imagined she would be at such an hour.

With a goodbye to Mr. Ackbar, she made her way, following the mass of people towards the exit (or, she supposed, the entrance), bombarded not only the noise and the sensation of being bumped, pushed, and shoved but with the individual scents of hundreds, saturating her sinuses and throat with their unfamiliarity. 

Very obviously overwhelmed, Rey nearly cried at the sight of a man of late middle age standing ramrod straight, distinguished by his black cutaway coat and white tie, tapping his fingers together nervously and mouthing what she was certain was ‘Niima’.

“Mr. Theepio?” 

the man turned towards her, his eyes widening first in nervous fear and then in relieved anticipation. 

“Miss Niima?” 

She nodded and he immediately went to take both of her hands in his own, shaking them with a comical enthusiasm.

“Oh, it is so very good to meet you at last!” his accent was very refined, almost pretentious were it not for the genuine nature he put across.

Threepio had informed her some time ago during their correspondence of their shared designation (making him the second omega man she had met today, strangely enough, despite their relative rarity), confirmed by the light waves of raspberry preserves, apples, and sourdough drifting from his person.

“Please do follow me, Miss Niima, Arthur was quite aggressive in getting his spot in front of the station so we mustn't keep him waiting!”

She trailed behind him through the exit only to be met with the sight of what seemed to be hundreds, if not thousands of carriages and buggies each paired with a multitude of violent, swearing drivers yelling at each other from their respective seats. At the forefront of this, directly in front of them, was a short, stout, silver-haired man pummeling some poor soul into the ground, cursing in French.

“Arthur Eaudedeux, what on earth are you doing to that man!”

The man, who was apparently the very Arthur meant to transport them to Mayfair, looked up in surprise.

“My goodness, we need to get Miss Niima home, and here you are! Making an awful first impression nonetheless!”

If Arthur was chastened by this he didn’t show it.

“ Désolé.”

He took her bags, threw them unceremoniously inside and turned to climb up to the driver's seat of a rich black carriage, decorated only with a tasteful, yet unfamiliar, crest on the door, and took up the reins of two bay horses.

Threepio sighed, “I do apologize for him, he’s a strange one, that Arthur. Do come along, Miss Niima.”

After helping her inside and following suit, barely allowing her to feel the red cashmere beneath her, The older omega began to speak.

“My mistress, Leia, prefers to have very sparse staff, we’ve been with her since she was a child, you know, It’s really only Arthur and I, "how very strange, Rey thought, Leia, it seemed she was called, was either much younger than she thought or Mr. Threepio was much older than he appeared to be, “He’s officially the housekeeper but as you’ve probably noticed he takes on a few more duties than probably expected.”

A male housekeeper was quite unexpected, unheard of, even. Perhaps she had met yet another omega man, but the prospect seemed just too unlikely. Her employer was probably just more particular than the usual upper-crust.

“Everyone is very excited to meet you, Miss Niima, everyone being the whole of the household of course, and we mustn’t forget Mistress Organa, one could argue she’s most excited of all though she is rather intent on remaining as impartial as possible, especially since Master Han passed-”

Rey had the feeling that he was telling more than she should probably know on what was not even her first day of work but she let him prattle on as Arthur clicked his tongue and the carriage lurched forward, making a note to herself to forget everything he was saying which seemed far too inappropriate.

“Besides myself the only other one of us,” he gestured to her and himself, “is Miss Tico, though one could easily mistake her for an alpha given her rather passionate character, but Arthur says I’m just still unused to Americans.”

“Miss Tico?”

“Oh, yes!” he clapped his hands together in delight, Rey suspected many didn’t let him talk as long as she was and he was fully taking advantage of it, “She’s one of the students living with us! Mistress Leia’s protegee, brought over here from, what was it? Columbia University, in the city of New York!”   
  
“Oh?” 

Arthur shouted above them, and Rey peeked out to see the man throwing up a bras d’honneur.

“Yes, Mistress Leia was actually educated in New York and is quite an important donor there, I must warn you in advance, though, her accent is very American but she is still very much a born and bred English Rose and takes exception to any implication of the contrary.”

Rey nodded, she had never met an American and therefore had no clue what their accent sounded like. She hoped it wouldn’t be surprising enough to show on her face.

After several minutes they finally pulled out of the fray and turned to approach Hyde Park and, as Threepio explained, ‘the most fashionable neighborhoods in London Town’. The streets were quiet and clean, allowing the sound of the horses' hooves to echo about and bounce off of the increasingly tall and ornate townhouses. 

“You said there were other students living there?”

“Yes! Two others, young men. Mr. Dameron and Mr. Stoirm,” Rey became slightly alarmed at the prospect of living with men, which Threepio kindly noticed, “you needn’t worry, the two of them are very respectful and courteous, trust me if they attempt even the slightest indecency they will most certainly feel the wrath of my mistress.”

The carriage drew to a stop and Rey looked out the window to see an enormous building of red brick and buff-colored pilasters adorned with neoclassical pseudo-tympanum and friezes.

“Miss Niima, if you please,” she took Threepio’s hand and hopped onto the sidewalk as Arther threw her bags onto the front step before them before driving away, presumably to put away the carriage and horses on the other side.

With a noise of exasperation, the older man removed a set of keys from his waistcoat, unlocking the door and gesturing her inside. 

Ducking under his arm, and walking through the vestibule, she entered a beautiful, if slightly ostentatious foyer decorated with elegant carpets and orchids in porcelain vases, a finely carved wooden staircase leading to the upstairs, oil paintings in gilded frames rising in tandem on the opposite wall. To the right was a dark wooden door in a delicate mahogany frame, closed so that Rey had no earthly idea what lay behind it (though she highly suspected it to be a drawing-room). 

“Do follow me, Miss Niima, I’ll show you your room so you can drop off your things,” he paused a beat as if afraid of overwhelming her, “then my mistress will very much like to see you in the library for tea.”

Rey nodded, letting him lead the way up to the third floor. 

The room, which was situated at the end of the right hallway, was somewhat small, and dark, but more luxurious than Rey ever could have expected. The thick, cream carpet that covered nearly every inch of the floor made her feel as though she were walking on metaphorical clouds, and as soon as Cedric left her to be situated with a smile she quickly slipped off her worn boots to feel the softness with her covered feet.

The assorted bags and suitcases she had brought were placed next to the rather large bed, which took up most of the room, and, unable to resist the call of the matching off-white plush comforters, blankets, and pillows she risked her bustle unhooking by plopping face-first into the softest bed she had ever laid in, breathing in the smell of fresh laundry. 

After a few minutes, she finally rose and, checking that everything was still in place, began to explore the rest of the room. 

The vanity was frightening in its reflection of her miserable state. 

Her attempt at a presentable chignon seemed to have come quite undone, making her look more bedraggled than she probably ought to have been when meeting her employer for the first time, especially one that could afford a flat as fine as this one. 

Her blouse, gifted to her by sister Korrie and the finest she owned, had become wrinkled and her brown skirt had a tear that she, unfortunately, hadn’t noticed until this very moment. Rey desperately prayed that the venerable Madam Organa wouldn’t notice either.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Miss Niima? Mistress Organa would like to see you now.”

Taking a moment to attempt, in vain, to salvage herself and pull her shoes back on she quietly followed Cedric back down and up another set of stairs, making sure — since it seemed her overall appearance was working against her — that her expression and demeanor were as sunny and agreeable as she imagined a lady’s companion ought to be. 

“Come in!” a light voice greeted not a second after Cedric knocked, muffled slightly by the door which lay between. 

Threepio turned the brass handle and held the door ajar, standing straight with an unprecedented formality and gesturing her inside, closing it once she was fully situated in the room.

The library, it seemed, was as much of a library as it could have been in the limited space provided. Stacks upon stacks of books of all shapes, sizes, and colors taking up most of the room and looming precariously over the head of a woman of maybe sixty years of age.

“Hello, Rey,” the immediate informality struck her, but Rey quickly decided to attribute it to a peculiarity rather than an intentional disrespect.

“Madam Organa, I take it?” 

“Yes, but please call me Leia, I insist,” Threepio was not kidding about the accent, the pronunciations strange and unfamiliar but ultimately pleasant, “won’t you please sit?” she gestured to the cushioned chair opposite her own, laughing as Rey sat and kicked up in surprise as the excess give of the seat made her feel as though she was about to fall to the floor.

“Oh, forgive me. I should have warned you,” she placed a hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide what was undoubtedly a grin, the smile of her eyes giving her away regardless, “These chairs are so very old, I’m surprised most of them haven’t broken by now.”

“It’s-it’s quite alright!” Rey tried her best to keep herself upright in as subtle a manner as possible, her face warming as — she imagined— she continued to embarrass herself.

Once she finally situated herself with a moderate amount of decorum, Leia gestured towards the tray in front of her,

“Tea? Cookies?” Cookie was an American word, wasn’t it? She had read that somewhere surely. She nodded as Leia went ahead and poured the steaming water into the fine china cup, placing a large chocolate biscuit with it on the saucer, “Sorry. Nature, you see.”

As Rey delicately took the cup from the other woman’s hands she realized what she was referring to. 

Leia Organa — though mated, widowed, and well past childbearing years — was an alpha. The first alpha woman — Rey would make note to herself later that night — she had ever met, smelling of rosemary, salt, and rainwater.

She smiled awkwardly, now slightly frightened, moving to take a small sip as she waited for the other woman to continue. 

“So,” Leia took a hearty gulp from the steaming cup in her hand, an action which became all the more alarming as Rey nearly jumped from the heat of the burning liquid on her own tongue “It seems you and I may be spending much time together, Rey.”   


She softly sniffed the air, “Yes, I think you will do just nicely!” Leia seemed to notice the, now outright, alarm on Rey’s face and quickly put the tea down, “Oh no, oh, please don’t misunderstand! Your upbringing was quite sheltered, wasn’t it? You grew up in a convent, yes?”

Rey nodded hesitantly in response.

“I thought so, Threepio mentioned something like that,” she lay back in her seat, bringing her hand to her chin in thought, “you being an omega is very important in your role as my companion. Not in the sense of a mating prospect as you’re probably assuming right now, but merely that your... presence will make my time further agreeable.”

“You’re a precious commodity, you know,” Leia continued, “not only for your rarity but the ability for any omega to calm an alpha such as myself is unmatched. Omegas are in quite high demand these days.”

She leaned forward, drawing her hand up to the side of her mouth as if telling a secret, “I’ve also personally found many girls of your designation to have rather unpleasant scents, so you see I was simply figuring the finality of your prospect as my employee. You’ve passed, my girl.”

Rey couldn’t help but match the older woman’s mirthy grin.

“I probably should have hired a companion before this but there’s just something about the idea of the upcoming season that’s making me break out in hives,” she shivered, “I need... _something_ to keep me from completely losing it, which is where you come in.”

“In a few days we will be traveling down to Bath for a fortnight to visit my friend, Baroness Amilyn Holdo of Gataly, and then north to our estate in Cumberland for the offseason, will that be agreeable?”

“Yes, of course! I’ve always wanted to go to Bath!” Rey was slightly hesitant of returning north but supposed it couldn’t be helped.

They both took the moment of silence to drink more, “Now, onto your expectations and duties, and then I’ll let you go to retire for the night, if that’s alright.”

“Yes, ma’am”

Leia gave her a look of reproach at the use of the title but continued anyway, “As you’ve probably guessed, your main role is to serve as my companion both in and out of my home. For now, I’ll only need you to be with me throughout the day. You won’t have to do much, just sitting with me and keeping me company will probably be enough most of the time.”

Leia made to continue but seemed to realize something.

“Can you play parlor games? Or cards?”

“Oh, yes, I spent much of my time keeping the younger children occupied in the orphanage so I’m quite familiar.”

“Excellent!” she brightened up, “Yes, yes that will work quite nicely until we get you more warmed up to this arrangement.”

Rey’s eyes widened. Had she noticed how nervous she was?

“Oh, please don’t worry, Rey. From what Threepio told me this is a completely new situation for you. I’d be frightened too!”

Rey smiled tightly, wishing to appease the alpha woman’s concern, but still feeling the buzz of anxiety creep up her spine.

Leia seemed even more overtly concerned than before but dropped the subject in favor of what Rey was actually there for, “Most importantly, as I mentioned before, I will be needing your company for the whole of the season,” she heaved a big sigh, “Lord knows I’ll need someone to get me through all those parties and balls and races and concerts and garden shows and-.”

“Parties, you said?” Rey suddenly felt very inadequate and underqualified, wincing at the feeling of a droplet of nervous sweat running down her back.

For the first time since Rey had first entered the room, Leia seemed to notice what she was wearing and looked her up and down.

“Yes... you’ll need a wardrobe won’t you?”

“Oh, please ma’am do not trouble yours-”

“It’s completely fine, don’t worry at all! Besides, even if I wasn’t disgustingly rich I don’t think I could stop myself from beating those insipid little debutantes if they make comments about your attire,” she huffed. 

The alpha’s anger was enough to quash any feelings of knee-jerk frugality, “y-yes ma’am.”

“Besides, I’ve always wanted a daughter to dress up,” Leia looked over Rey’s form once again, eyes darting back and forth in thought, “I suppose we’ll need to go to France, but ugh, I loathe Paris,” she blew out yet another breath with her nostrils, “Perhaps we’ll get your measurements here and have Cedric go ahead and pick things out for you. He may not look it but he has a real eye for these things.” 

Rey would argue that with his perfectly pressed suit and immaculate grooming, the man did, in fact, seem as though he knew at least something about fashion but she decided she didn’t know enough to dispute it.

The older woman hummed as if agreeing with herself, “yes, yes, that’s what we’ll do... THREEPIO ! !”

“Yes, Madam!” He ran in with alarming speed for his age.

“I’ll need you to take Rey’s measurements at once and leave for Paris, she needs a proper young lady’s wardrobe.”

“Oh my, yes, of course, madam. Shall I leave tonight?”   


“If you think you should need the time, we’re leaving Thursday after all.”

“Very good, madam.”

Leia reached across to take Rey’s hand, “that will be it for now, my dear, go with Threepio and you’re free to retire for the night.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Please, my dear, it’s Leia.” She laughed and waved as Rey followed Threepio out of the room.

“Goodnight, Leia!”

“Goodnight, Rey! Oh, and do join me for breakfast in the morning!”

"I will!"

Rey decided not to comment on the sight of the older woman pulling a flask from her wrapper as the butler closed the door behind him.

“Do follow me to the kitchen, Miss Rey, I have my measuring tape there,” and down two levels they went, through a darkened dining room into a pristine, an antechamber stocked with china, silverware and the like, and then down a smaller staircase to medium-sized room centered around a large wood-burning stove and brick oven.

“It’s around here somewhe - ah, yes, here it is, stand still for me won’t you Miss Rey?”

The next hour or so was spent taking every possible measurement of her slender frame, Threepio wrapping the tape around her every which way and making notations in a small notebook, asking if she was underfed in her abbey to account for any possible growth (to which she responded with a negative).

“Do you have any particular preference for color or style, or shall I ask for selections based on your complexion?”

Rey had never really had the choice of ‘color’ or ‘style’ when all her clothes were handmade and purposely designed as a plain, unassuming wardrobe fit for a proper, pure child of God, “You can ask, I’m not really sure.”

“Very good,” he wrote rapidly, looking back up at her and down to note her features, “okay, alright, yes I must be going then,” he drew his pocket watch up to his face, looking closely, “Yes there should be a train in an hour or so, I suppose I’ll have to walk. You won’t be needing me to show you the way to your room again will you?”

“No, I’ll be fine, I think, thank you, Mr. Threepio.”

He smiled cheerfully in response before frantically pulling out his set of keys, “I will have to entrust these with you for the night but do pass them on to Arthur or Miss Tico or Mr. Stoirm in the morning, won’t you?”

“O-oh, of course,” they weighed down her palm, gleaming as though they were religiously cleaned.

“I should be leaving in twenty or so minutes, please lock the door before you retire!”

“I will, you needn’t worry with me,” he responded to her assurance with a gesture, connecting his thumb and forefinger and raising the other three, and ran past her, presumably to go to his own quarters and pack for his trip.

Rey wandered out and down to the foyer where, as promised, Threepio appeared some eleven minutes later.

“It really is so very, very nice to meet you, Miss Niima,” He shook her hand with more vigor someone ought to have at what was now surely midnight, “we shall see each other again, I hope the things I bring back will be to your satisfaction.”

“They will be more than satisfactory I’m sure,” She grinned at him from the front doorstep, watching as he waved goodbye, walked down Mount street, and disappeared from view, leaving her to close and, noting the key to which it belonged, locked the door.

Rey felt as though she should be much tired than she actually was, prancing up the stairs to her very own bedroom, something she had never had before (the abbey cell, she decided, did not count), with a nearly unsuitable enthusiasm.

She performed her evening abutilons, removing off her blouse, skirt, bustle, and petticoats, taking the time to freshen her skin with a soft towel and clean water provided via her own porcelain pitcher and basin, and pulling a soft, clean nightgown over her head.

It had been, once she checked the small pendulum clock on the wall, a full hour of unbraiding, brushing, and rebraiding her hair when she decided that, as sinfully comfortable her bed looked, sleep was not in the foreseeable future.

Surely, she thought, no one was awake by now.

Bending her neck to look out the doorway, noting the darkness and lack of any noise whatsoever, she deemed it safe to journey out and explore her new home. That would be alright, wouldn’t it? Even if she was only in her nightgown.

Each door in the hallway she was staying, making sure that no one was occupying them by putting her cheek to the door and listening for any sign of life, led to its own bedroom, most with furniture covered by dust sheets.

The other hallway bracketing the third-floor staircase seemed identical and therefore, she reasoned, unworthy of investigation for the present moment.

The upstairs and all that lay above it was eliminated as well, for fear of disturbing Leia’s slumber, and thus left her a more thorough exploration of the kitchen, the dining room, the room opposite to it, and the drawing-room below, the entrusted keys in hand in the event one of the doors were locked.

Her determination to make an adventure of it, however, was almost immediately interrupted by the sound of a rapid knock coming from the front door. 

She paused.

“Oh no, Threepio missed the train didn’t he,” she whispered to herself.

Though he certainly had the energy to talk endlessly, his bones clearly showed signs of age, especially in his gait. No doubt poor Threepio was unable to make it in time and decided to return for the night and try again in the morning.

She glided down the stairs, her stockings making her nearly slip as the fabric slid along the carpet, picking out what she was positive was the front door’s key and rushed to the foyer until she heard the click of the lock’s mechanism and stopped in her tracks.

Threepio didn’t have a spare key or else he wouldn’t have asked her to lock it behind him.

The vestibule door swung open revealing someone who was most certainly not Cedric Threepio, head butler for the household of Madam Organa.

The first thing she noticed, of course, was how enormous the man was, him nearly having to duck and turn his body sideways in order to pass through the, quite normal-sized, doorway.

The second was the smell. So alarming in its heady effect on her that she hadn’t a moment to pick up any individual notes aside from alpha. 

The human brain which she very proudly called her own was gone and replaced by something unfamiliar. Something intensely primitive and animal, begging her to do.... _ something _ to make the man in front of her happy.

“Uh.”

She could have smacked herself, bent over backward from the unadulterated stupidity of the statement. 

In fact, as she thought back on it much later, she very well might have actually done exactly that had the man not rushed to grip her comparatively minuscule arms in his hands and pull her against his form, ducking his head to her neck, his soft, inky black hair tickling her face, and pushed her roughly against the wall.

Oh. 


	2. Lamiaceae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Miss Rey Niima encounters an alpha gentleman and makes a few new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you all so much for the positive response! It means so much to me 🥺, love you guys. Hope you like this chapter, too! (also sorry for the long wait 😞)
> 
> TW for very slight dubious consent* 
> 
> *see end notes for details

When it came to the intricacies which came with being an omega, Rey was, for better or worse, kept almost completely in the dark.

It certainly wasn’t uncommon, of course, especially in a strict religious setting such as where she had grown up. Omegas were expected to remain innocent, untouched, and pure before they were claimed by whatever alpha so desired.

“Why can’t _I_ go outside?” she had asked as she sat beside sister Harter on the library’s window seat. The older woman had been giving her a rare instance of physical affection, petting her head as they read together, watching the other, beta, orphan children play in the courtyard.

“Because you are an omega, my dear,” There was a twinge of sadness in her voice, for her treatment or for her plight in general Rey did not know, but ultimately a tone that said ‘that’s just the way it is’. 

“Oh,” Rey had looked to her book, then to her dingy, brown shoes, then back to the window, nearly straining her neck in the effort to watch the little girls and boys soak in the dappled sunlight as they ran between the abbey’s prized pear trees with joyous smiles on their faces, “why does being an omega mean I can’t go outside?”

“It’s dangerous, Rey,” the sister took her long veil in hand, using the soft fabric to rub Rey’s pale little cheek, “for both you and them.”

“Why?” Rey hadn’t done anything wrong. At least, she didn’t think so. 

“It’s the way your designation draws others,” her attention shifted to the kerchief about Rey’s neck, adjusting it. High necklines weren’t fashionable or standard back then, so she had been forced to cover herself with something else, “you’re just a child now but even so your scent can capture the attention of an alpha and put all of us in the abbey at risk.”

Sister Harter had shaken her head, a shade of fear in her eyes, “yes, it is imperative you stay inside at all times, Rey. Especially once you come of age.” 

Rey had turned back to her book.

For the three or so years following that conversation, Rey had nightmares about being abducted by great hairy beasts. At the time and at her age, Rey did not know what an alpha was, just that they were horrible and dangerous and would surely tear her limb from limb given the chance. 

Then one day it was pointed out her that Father Datoo, one of the priests to resided there, was, in fact, an alpha

“B-but! How can that be!” she had cried, “he is a man!”

The novice had crooked her eyebrow, “yes, he is, did you think he wasn’t?”

“Sister Harter said alphas were monsters!”

“I’m sure she didn’t say that, that’s ridiculous, Rey,” she paused, easing her hold on Rey’s dress, “well, why do you think you cannot leave your room unaccompanied?”

Rey did leave her room unaccompanied, but the novice didn’t need to know that. Perhaps it was as in Matthew, ‘Beware of persons which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves’

As she grew older, of course, fear became curiosity, and she became more demanding of answers as to _why_ she must be tied up and locked away on a quarterly basis.

Answers, if not blanketed with religious dogma and assurances that such precautions were for the sake of maintaining her maidenly purity, were sparse and undetailed. Words and phrases that seemed to connect to the subject superficially but revealed no actual meaning. 

Imagination seemed to fill at least a modicum of the gaps in the feverish episodes following her first.

When writhing desperately upon the single sheet she was permitted (as she had left the room the last time with her entire back and rear embedded with painful splinters) and when she wasn’t delirious with want or sleep, she’d imagine her hands weren’t her own, that they belonged to someone who wanted to (unfortunately, without success) take care of her.

Was this what the sisters wouldn't tell her, she had asked herself then.

In some way, Rey was right on that count.

But it was with great certainty that _this_ was what the nuns were protecting her from.

Nothing of what she learned or imagined could have prepared her for this very moment.

She probably ought to have felt frightened, heard the warnings of the Mother Superior of ‘treacherous, savage alphas’ jumping at any opportunity to ‘rob her of her maidenhead’, but all she felt was the warmth of this man’s body cradled around her, the steady rise and fall of his chest against and in tandem with her own.

He was breathing, open-mouthed, against her throat, the hot, damp air sinking into her skin and liquifying her brain, a sensation made only worse as he moved his hands about her waist and along her back.

“I...” The sound of his voice made her shudder, so deep, even as he panted, that her knees began to buckle, “I, ah..”

By the pull of some instinct, she tilted her head to the side, as if presenting herself for the kill, needing him to do something, anything at all, she wasn’t quite sure what exactly. But, regardless, she needed it. Desperately. 

He drew closer and she felt the touch of his lips, running along her nape as if searching for something, feeling for the softness of her skin.

She was quite embarrassed to say that just that bare touch was enough to draw a noise from her mouth.

“Please,” she begged. He rubbed his cheek against her in response, the coarseness of stubble easing her fluttering heart as he began stroking her back and gathering the fabric of her nightgown in his fist.

“Ah...” he pressed a series of warm, wet kisses to her rapidly overheating skin, “please, may I... please just-”

“Yes, please, God,” Rey, in all actuality, had no idea what it was she was agreeing to but she decided at that very moment she did not care.

Until he pulled back her loosened hair with his thumb and licked, a thick, wet stripe, directly upon her mating gland, barely visible beneath her ear.

She gasped and cried out, sparks of light bursting behind her eyelids in a moment of what she could only describe as pure, unadulterated, concentrated happiness, made only slightly strange by a familiar ache between her thighs.

Rey had never been drunk, such things were either forbidden or purposefully withheld, but she imagined that the feeling was very much like what she was feeling now, so overwhelming and joyous tears gathered in the corners of her blearing eyes. 

He lapped at her skin, moaning with each taste as if she were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, so overcome he had to collapse further around her, his brawny arms framing about her head, so as not to fall to the floor. She preened at the thought, of, perhaps, being wanted so much, and allowed herself to clutch at his arms, sinking her trimmed nails into the deep navy wool of his coat.

He cooed, shushing her as he felt her tears, “I know, I know…” he moved to kiss her cheek, her jaw, then back to her throat, “poor omega…so sweet...”

The collar of her nightdress had begun to stick to her sternum, whether with her own sweat or the man’s, the alpha’s saliva, as it dampened the whole of her throat and shoulder, she could not tell. Probably, she would late conjecture, a mixture of both. 

She could feel it, the slick running down her legs, soaking her cheap, threadbare stockings and drawers, uncaring as the place between them pulsed and seized with each brush of his tongue, each rub of his fingers against her uncorseted back.

If she knew it would make him cease in his attentions, though, she was certain she would have probably thought to care more.

The familiar weight and release of viscous liquid dripping from her womanhood to the carpet below nearly made her red in mortification or might have if he hadn’t stopped, frozen as if she had struck him.

With a soft smack, he drew his lips away, looking first at her (or so she believed, the hallway was rather dark) and then to the ground. 

With alarming speed, he threw his hand up to clutch his nose, propping himself up with a hand against the wall next to her head, distancing their bodies from one another.

“Peh,” he swallowed, licking his lips, “peppermint.”

She blinked.

“Wh-what?”

“Peppermint, peppermint oil, get some, quickly!” 

“Oh!” there was a curious urge within herself to do what he was saying, even though she probably would have done what he asked regardless, “Yes, of course!”

Still, she stood beneath him, half grimacing, unable to move, barely able to process his words despite her compulsion, her mind scrambled as if she had been abruptly awoken from a deep sleep.

“ _Omega._ ” 

She ducked under his arm and ran up the stairs, nearly tripping in her mission to get to the kitchen with an unexplainable urgency. 

She was, luckily, now cognizant enough to stop the door from slamming into the wall as she threw it open, running to rummage through every blackwood cabinet and drawer within reach.

Two minutes later she found what appeared to be the medicine cabinet and a square bottle labeled ‘PURE EXTRACT of PEPPERMINT from J. T. Addams, druggist, LONDON’. She cradled it in her hands and rushed out, back down the stairs to the foyer.

When she returned she found him on the other side of the hall from where they had stood together, a handkerchief held to his mouth and nose as he stared absently at the wallpaper. 

“I am back,” Rey flushed as he whipped his head in her direction, straightening himself to rush towards her and take the bottle from her hands.

She could see him more clearly now, the light of the moon filtering in through the window onto his face as he opened it to inhale the (relatively, as it was London) fresh air.

He was not quite handsome in the same way as the princes in fairy story pictures were, nor as the photographs of young actors passed about the girls’ dormitory on cigarette cards. 

No, indeed, this man before her was beyond what Rey could have ever imagined a man to be.

If it weren’t for the obvious worry in his eyes she would have thought him to be very angry with her, if his prominent, furrowed brow and the sharp downturned corners of his mouth were to be any indication. 

His lips, she noticed, were full for a man’s even as they tightened with distress and drew attention to his nose, larger than one might consider appropriate to call attractive in the conventional sense of modern standards but, in Rey’s opinion, distinguished, noble, even, in its significance. 

His hair, unusually dark even in the shadows, was, perhaps, a touch longer than was fashionable, as it fell to just above the white of his collar and covered his ears, but Rey thought it suited him very well. 

She hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt as she, very obviously, stared up at him. 

“Here,” he touched her chin and tilted it up towards him, raising two fingers, now wet, to her lips, and delicately brushed them across the skin just under her nostrils. 

Her eyes watered.

All she could smell was peppermint, while the scent itself wasn’t unpleasant it was so sharp, so overpowering that her nose and throat stung from the mere intensity of it. 

“I apologize,” his voice was strange and muffled through the fabric he had placed back upon the lower part of his face, “I should have warned you.”

Rey could only wheeze in response, wiping at her eyes and face and struggling not to sneeze as the man quickly removed his handkerchief and spread the peppermint oil upon his upper lip as he had done to her.

He coughed for a moment before turning to her, “are you alright?”

“I suppose,” she tried, somewhat in vain, to blink away the fresh swell of tears as she looked back at him, “as much as I can be.”

“I see,” he licked his lips, wincing slightly as he tasted the solution above them, as he ran his eyes over her form from top to toe.

Rey looked down, her skin, once again, flaming as she fully realized the extent of her current indecency. 

Her nightgown was old, perhaps, since its previous owner had supposedly been long gone before she had arrived at the abbey as an infant, even older than herself, a supposition further proved by the terribly unfashionable neckline which lay low about her chest exposing the trim of her chemise beneath, something which had never particularly bothered her or struck her as improper until she was before an actual, virile, alpha man, essentially in her unmentionables.

At least the linen was sturdy enough to not show anything else.

She threw her arms across her breast, tucking in her chin, “oh, I am so very sor-”

“If I may ask who are you?” 

Rey looked up in alarm, realizing for the first time that this man was, in fact, a complete stranger who had unlawfully entered the house of her employer some half-hour before. 

She narrowed her eyes, “shouldn’t I be the one asking you question, sir?”

He blinked in surprise, “I’m the son of the lady of the house.”

“Really?” 

He blankly pointed up to one of the paintings adjacent to the staircase. The moonlight wasn’t enough to make out any real details but she could still see it was a portrait of a man who looked, at least from a distance, remarkably like the one before her.

“Oh,” would she ever stop embarrassing herself? “I am sorry, Mr…?”

“Solo,” he nodded, “My father’s family name.”

“Right,” Threepio had mentioned a _late_ master Solo hadn’t he, “I apologize, Mr. Solo, for assuming the worst of you.”

“It’s quite alright, I don’t blame you.” 

She flushed to realize he was speaking of what had transpired between them just before rather than her not even knowing that Leia _had_ a son.

“I’m Rey,” she sputtered out, “Rey Niima, I’m your mother’s lady’s companion. I just arrived this evening,” she made a slight curtsy.

“Benjamin.”

 _Benjamin_.

“Lady’s companion, hm?” he cocked his head, “my mother finally got sick of pretending to like her fellow peers, I’m guessing?”

Rey let out a huff of laughter, “she said just as much, I’m afraid.”

The corners of his mouth twitched with the hint of a smile, “sounds about right.”

He looked into her eyes for a moment before standing straight and pushing himself away from the wall behind him.

“Miss Niima, I must ask, are you alright?” by the timbre of his voice he wasn’t referring to her reaction to the peppermint oil this time.

“Oh, yes, I am perfectly fine, thank y-”

“If I may,” his hand rose to her hair, covering the side of her throat.

This was inappropriate, Rey knew it was, but there was such an earnestness in his eyes she could only nod.

He moved the loosened brown tresses to the side, examining her, now, exposed skin.

“Shit.”

Rey gasped, she had never heard someone swear with such frankness, especially without discipline from a cranky nun, but she was more concerned by why he had said such a thing.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I’ve scented you,” he skimmed the skin of her gland with the pad of his finger, a hiss escaping from between her teeth, “God damn it, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright!”

“It really isn’t but thank you for trying to help me feel better.”

Rey desperately wished she knew more about her own body, about her designation. Even without knowing what he was talking about she still felt shame for her ignorance.

“I will write to my mother as soon as I return to my flat,” he brushed at the seat of his morning coat, “I will... I’ll come up with something, you needn’t worry, your reputation won’t be ruined I swear it.”

She hadn’t even considered that her reputation would be in danger and didn’t think it much mattered considering the inferiority of her social status.

“I, I must go.”

His words were the ones of a man intending to leave yet he made no move to do so, his eyes locked on hers.

“Yes, I suppose you must,” Rey, of course, didn’t want to see him go per se, but she was rather tired.

“Yes,” he turned, opening the door to the vestibule, putting on his top hat and overcoat from where they had hung upon the hatstand just inside before looking back at her, “do have a pleasant sleep, Miss Niima.”

She curtsied in farewell, “I will try, sir.”

“Very good,” he made to leave once again before turning back, “goodnight, Miss Niima.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Solo,” She smiled, half missing his eyes widening at her address.

He nodded, looking her over as if to confirm to himself of her materiality, and left through the door, the lock clicking from the outside.

Rey allowed herself to stand in the darkness, the events of the night washing over her.

“Oh my _God_.”

Rey had very nearly slept into the afternoon, her bed so comfortable and her dreams so pleasant that such an outcome was almost inevitable, especially considering both the inadequacy of her previous lodgings and the length of her journey.

Being nearly ravaged by a man well after midnight certainly didn’t help, either.

_Benjamin._

Rising from beneath her duvet was a task unto itself, but one which was completely necessary, Rey thought, should she wish to remain employed.

She washed and began to dress, taking care to change her chemise and stockings and hid them beneath her dresser til they could be taken to be cleaned, no need to embarrass herself by trying to answer questions as to why they smelled of omega slick and another man’s saliva.

_Benjamin Solo._

Was he thinking of her as she was thinking of him right that moment, she wondered? Surely she would not be employed by Leia Organa forever, so perhaps then-? Her heart fluttered at the thought as she plopped upon the seat of her vanity, taking care to rebraid her hair so as to not appear disheveled on her first day of work.

She raised her hair from her nape to twist and pin it into a chignon.

_Benjamin Organa-Solo, perhaps?_

Rey started as she looked at herself properly in the mirror, lips parting in surprise as she noticed not the glow of her skin, fresh from sleep, nor the rosy flush upon her cheeks.

There, stark upon her throat, was a smattering of red and purple marks succeeded in their noticeability only by the swollen flesh of her glands, still hot to the touch beneath her earlobe.

 _He did this_ , she thought to herself.

She ought to have been upset, afraid of others noticing and their judgments thereof but she just couldn’t muster any negative feeling at all.

She simply felt as if she were floating on air.

Rey turned her head to her shoulder, smelling the scent on her skin that was, for the first time in her life, not completely her own. _Benjamin’s scent, this must be the ‘scenting’ he had been speaking of_ , she thought (the peppermint oil had rubbed off some time during her sleep).

Last night she had been too overwhelmed, too high on pure sensation to properly make out his signature but now that she was alone, relatively calm and collected she could think of the matter all she liked.

English oak, leather, clove, and a hint of woodsmoke with, she sniffed again and smiled further in realization, rainwater. 

Like his mother.

She could have twirled, danced about the room in pure delight if it weren’t for the incessant ticking of her clock, reminding her of her own lateness already as she quickly closed each clasp at the front of her corset. 

She supposed Leia would disapprove of her painfully simple, taupe, thankfully high-necked, daydress with barely enough excess fabric in the back to accommodate a bustle, but seeing as it was the best article of clothing she owned Rey decided her employer must simply tolerate it for the interim until Threepio returned. 

Rey took a deep breath of courage and made her way to the dining room below.

The first thing she noticed as she walked in was the presence of three other persons close to her in age engaged in rowdy conversation around their benefactor who sat, still in her dressing gown, taking her tea as she read through that morning’s mail.

The second was everyone’s attention immediately being drawn to her, heads whipping to look with wide, curious eyes, as she stood in the doorway.

“Ma’am I am so very sorry I am late, you see I over-”

“So you did meet him.”

Rey flushed, “Ma’am?”

“Ohoho,” the laugh came from the man to her right, dark-haired, bright-eyed, and skin so warmly golden she could have marked him for a mirror of Apollo himself, “it seems our dearest infallible Benjamin has finally gone and tipped the boat.”

Leia took the letter in her hand to lightly smack the top of his perfectly coiffed hair, “I will have no more of that Dameron, do you hear me?”

He smiled sheepishly at the older woman before getting up, immediately grasping Rey’s hand in his own and shaking it with amazing, nearly painful enthusiasm, “how-dee-do, Miss Niima! Poe Dameron, at your service.”

Rey laughed, a bit nervously, “I am very well, thank you very much, Mr. Dameron. How are you?”

“Excellent,” he grinned, “absolutely in-can-des-cent!” 

There was a scoff from behind him, a young woman, shorter than herself, propping her chin in her hand to observe the scene, “don’t mind Poe, he’s just happy because he thinks Ben’s in trouble.”

Rey bristled slightly at the shortening of his name, the other woman was an omega, she was certain, the one Mr. Threepio had mentioned previously.

“Oh he is in trouble,” Leia flipped between papers, her gaze unbreaking with the words below, “just not as much as Poe would probably like.”

The man, an alpha, she noticed with a sniff, groaned dramatically, “Finn, help me out, here.”

“I’m not the one with an agenda against a man I barely know, Poe,” Rey turned to see a kind-eyed, dark-skinned man chewing on a slice of toast and jam look up from a book to raise an eyebrow at his friend, his spectacles glinting under the bright gaslight above them.

She smiled as his eyes met her own.

“Hey, um, I’m Rose. Tico.” the omega woman had vacated her seat to stand behind her, wringing her hands in nervousness against the skirt of her champagne silk dress, “I’ve been very excited to meet you, I’m sorry if we’ve made a bad impression thus far.”

“Oh, no, not at all!” Rey felt immediately sorry for allowing herself to harbor a fleeting feeling of envy as the other woman beamed in response.

“Oh, this will be so, very wonderful! Oh Leia, Rey simply _must_ accompany me today!”

Leia made a noise of annoyance, “I hope you know _I’m_ the one paying both of you.”

Rose made a little jump, showing off the bounce of her rich, glistening black hair, her hands in fists, “But she hasn’t been to London before, hasn’t she? And certainly, she will need new things for when she comes with us to Bath?”

“Two birds with one stone,” Poe remarked.

“Exactly.”

Leia sighed, “Will you please let the poor woman have breakfast.”

With that the two people at either side of her took a step back, allowing her to take a seat beside Rose’s.

“Now back to the topic at hand,” Rey leaned back to listen to the older woman as Mr. Arthur, still surly and silent, placed a steaming cup of tea and a plate of fried eggs, toast, and sausages before her, “I really must apologize for my son he is a very...passionate man and if caught unawares can become quite overzealous.”

There was a somewhat shameful rush down her body as the word passionate in regards to Benjamin Solo was spoken. How much _had_ he told his mother?

“Jeez Rey, slow down, no one’s gonna steal your eggs, promise,” Rey looked up at Poe across from her, nearly all of the white and yolks shoveled into her mouth.

She swallowed, “I’m sorry, I’m just, not very used to good food like this.”

“Well, you needn’t go without again, Rey,” Leia’s weathered hand placed itself atop her own in comfort with a smile.

“AN-Y-WAY,” she sent a glare in the direction of the other alpha at the table, “as I was attempting to say before I was so rudely interrupted, I really must apologize on behalf of my son, and he _will_ be apologizing in person at some point I assure you.” 

Rey had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning. She _was_ going to see him again.

She hoped the others at the table couldn’t hear the excited pounding of her heart.

“But yes, I suppose Rose is right, we mustn’t have you cooped up after what happened last night,” Rose clapped her hands together in delight, “Arthur will accompany you two, and do be back by dinner, won’t you?”

“Yes, Leia, of course! Thank you so much!”

The older woman rose from her seat, wincing, “I will be taking a bath for now, goodbye, children.”

“Goodbye, Leia!” the three others chorused.

The four of them sat for a moment in silence, Rey watching as they each strained to listen for Leia’s movements.

At the rather loud closing of what was presumably the bathing room door, Poe jumped up.

“Alright, kids, let’s finish up and hit the town!”

Rey’s eyes widened, “what? But, I thought-”

“Don’t worry, Rey!” it was Rose who spoke, clasping their hands together, “we do this all the time, trust us! Arthur doesn’t care, right?”

The small man shrugged, his expression impartial, before exiting through the kitchen door.

Rey turned to her only remaining hope, Finn, who merely shrugged as he snapped his book closed, “it’s fine, you’ll be fine.”

No less than five minutes later The four of them stood on the front stoop of the townhouse, in their hats, bonnets, coats, and gloves to protect against the ever-increasing chill of autumn. 

“First stop,” Rose exclaimed, her heels clicking upon each step leading down to the sidewalk, “Harrods!” the shorter woman took Rey’s arm in her own, the two of them walking side by side down the street as the two men followed suit, “come along, little duckies!”

The streets were mostly barren, thankfully, it seems, as Rose commented, sighing, “thank God it’s a weekday.”

“And after lunch hour,” Finn murmured, to which Rose sternly nodded in approval.

“So,” Rey realized the woman was, this time, directly speaking to her, “what’s your story, Rey Niima? Threepio was quite sparse with the details.”

“Oh, well,” Rey wasn’t sure how much to tell, she had never quite interacted with other people her age in a manner such as this, “I was orphaned as a baby, or maybe abandoned, I can’t really say,” Rose hummed in empathy, “There’s not much to tell, I stayed in the orphanage, at Jackshead Abbey in Lancashire, for all of my twenty-two years until I left yesterday to come here.”

“You never left? At all?”

“No,” Rey’s eyes became unfocused in thought, “there wasn’t much around to do, regardless. It’s the moorlands, but even so I wasn’t allowed to leave because, well,” she gestured to herself.

“What.”

“God damnit, Poe,” Rose turned back with a frown, “it’s because she’s an omega! laws are different here than in America!” 

“And thank God for that,” Finn had increased his pace so as to walk directly next to them, “right, Rose?”

The woman sighed, “I suppose.”

“What about you three? What brings you here, besides-”

“Leia? Yeah, she’s the best,” Poe nodded towards the other two to start as they entered Hyde Park, now quite visible in the daylight compared to what she had seen from the carriage.

“Well, I got almost got caught impersonating a beta man to study in Colombia,” Rey nodded, most countries only allowed omegas, especially omega women, to enroll in systematically underfunded, academically subpar all-omega universities with very few exceptions, “I hid my hair in a cap and doused myself in one of our footmen’s cologne and barely anyone suspected a thing, or at least so I thought.”

Rose furrowed her brows at the memory.

“Then one day as I was walking out of a lecture this... _woman_ pulled me to the side and told me a group of my professors doubted my authenticity and planned to accost me later to ‘find out the truth’. Whatever that means,” she huffed, “so she immediately offered to help me by bringing me here under an apprenticeship of sorts, at least until she can convince them I told the truth.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Nah,” she waved a hand at Rey’s concern, “I’ve lived a very privileged life thus far, karma was bound to catch up to me sometime.” 

Rey wasn’t sure if blatant bias on the basis of gender and designation or planned assault could qualify as ‘karma’ but seeing Rose’s strained expression, she decided not to press, instead, turning to Finn, Mr. Stoirm.

“Oh, well, ahem,” the skin of his cheeks darkened with the sudden attention, making him nervously fiddle with the button of his topcoat, “There’s not much to me, I’m afraid. Ran away from home, saved up to go to college in New York, and the rest is history!” he gulped.

“Really, that’s it, Finn? What about when you met Leia, how’d that happen?” there was no malice in Rose’s voice, only curiosity, and encouragement.

“Not as exciting as yours, trust me,” he removed his spectacles to rub at the lenses with his sleeve, relieving him of the expectation to look at the faces of his friends and new acquaintance as he spoke, “I worked for Mr. Solo before he died and I guess Leia just decided to take me under her wing..”

“Wait, really? Me too!” Finn’s eyes widened with fright at Poe’s exclamation. 

“You knew Mr. Solo?”

“Hell yeah! My parents became buddies with them during the war!” he winked at the other man, “Han was the one who taught me aerodynamics and got me into the physics program.”

“Nice,” Rose turned conspiratorially towards Rey, “I’m in engineering.”

“Wow, you guys must be really smart!” the three grinned with varying amounts of pride and humility. 

The green of the park soon gave way to the bustling crowds and tall buildings of the city center, Rey holding herself back from embarrassing herself by childishly exclaiming at every shop, every fantastical display before her eyes until they reached an enormous building crafted in a fanciful, near baroque style.

Rose squealed, pulling on Rey’s arm as they ran to weave between the various carriages and carts, “there it is! Isn’t it beautiful, Rey?

Rey laughed, feeling Rose’s absolute joy, “yes, it is!”

“A marvel of modern architecture and engineering!” she released Rey to clutch her hands to her heart in wonder.

“C’mon, Rose, there’s other places we gotta go,” Poe pulled a hand from his coat pockets as he stood beside Finn, raising his middle finger as Rose stuck out her tongue.

“Fine, we’ll be quick, ok? Come on, Rey!” Rose laced her gloved fingers between Rey’s, leading her through the enormous glass doors slow enough to allow the other woman to gape at the most astounding, glittering frame for the most amount of anything Rey had ever seen in her entire life. 

From what she could see of the first floor, it was dominated by cakes, candies and confections, rich wines and liqueurs, and even, beyond all that, the store’s very own soda parlour almost entirely populated by children with richly curled hair in decadent frocks.

“Another time, I promise, it’s fantastic,” Rose seemed to yearn for the vast collection of treats as much as she, but had, for reasons unknown to Rey, developed a somewhat panicked look in her eyes as she pulled her to move to another department.

Past the glassware, jewelers, and even a restaurant with a full dining room, the two of them reached the perfumer, Rose sighing in relief as she saw it was empty, but cursing as she noticed there were no attendants or shopgirls.

“Damn,” Rose bit at her thumbnail beneath her cream-colored kid leather in thought, “ok, it’s ok, come on, Rey.”

Perfume was a forbidden luxury at the abbey, used, as was firmly told to her, only by immoral women of all economic classes.

“Here,” Rey was barely able to take in the pleasant mixture of scents around her when Rose hooked a finger about her collar and pulled it down to spritz against her throat, and, consequently, her still distended glands, the smell of pears and honey seeping into the tender skin.

“Oh!” Rey cried out in surprise before turning to the woman beside her in confusion and shock.

She had heard Americans were rather liberal compared to those who lived on the British Isles but this, this-

“Thank god,” Rose slumped against her, her silk and taffeta bonnet crinkling as her head crushed it against Rey’s trim waist, “you scared me, Rey, I thought we were going to be in so much trouble!”

“What? Why?”

“Your _scent,_ ” she whispered with little discretion, “Anyone from a mile away can smell you with the way your,” she waved her hand, gesturing over the air around Rey’s neck, “ _is_!”

“Oh, I didn’t realize.”

“I figured as much,” the woman rose deeply sighing with closed eyes before raising the fine white bottle before her, “I’ll get this for you, I think it somewhat suits you at the very least,” she raised her hand as Rey began to protest, “because if I don’t we will definitely be arrested for stealing.”

She conceded, waiting at the counter with Rose, who had picked another bottle for herself until a salesman entered through a hidden back door, initially startled at their presence but grateful they had good enough hearts to see through their purchases.

Rey left in a daze, barely registering Rose’s under breath comment of “capitalist pig” as they wandered out the way they came, feeling as if someone had stuffed cotton in one of her ears, or had her wear shoes at two different heights.

Wrong. It felt wrong.

“You’ll get used to it soon, don’t worry,” Rose patted her arm in comfort once she returned with a bag full of chocolate oranges to share between the four of them, Poe whooping in joy as she raised the bag for him to see above the crowd.

“Let’s go to Covent Garden,” said the very same man, moments later, his voice barely discernible under the mass of chocolate in his mouth.

“That’s such a long way!” Rose whined.

“Hey,” he swallowed, holding out his hand to the others as he waited to see if he would choke, which he thankfully didn’t, “we’ll shop along the way, reach Covent Garden, fool around in the West End for a bit then walk back in time for dinner.”

Rey and Finn, chewing on their own candies, nodded in agreement.

Rose sighed, “fine, but you better buy us all something.”

A quarter of an hour later they were on their way, Rose abandoning her hold on Rey to argue with Poe ahead of her on the subject of gravity and the accuracy of Newton’s laws, a subject which would typically inspire great interest in Rey were it not for how oddly miserable she felt.

“Hey, are you alright?” Finn walked beside her, hands in his pockets as the both of them held their ground against an icy gust of wind.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

Finn frowned, unconvinced, “you know, I didn’t say it before, because I’m afraid they’ll see me differently,” he nodded his head towards the two in front of them, “but I’m an orphan, like you. I mean I’m sure our experiences are different with cultural things and all that but I just wanted to let you know that I, I get it,” he looked to the ground, his chin and mouth hidden within his collar.

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Rey smiled, if weakly, “truly.”

Finn smiled back.

“Hey I think we’re all ignoring a huge, enormous, extra-wide elephant in the room and it’s getting a li-ttle weird,” the two of them turned to see Poe, grinning lazily as he leaned against a street railing, Rose picking up her foot and massaging her heel beside him.

“Oh?” Finn answered for her.

“Oh lordy, lordy, my Lord Benjamin had quite the dalliance with our Miss Rey didn’t he!”

“Shut up, Poe, stop acting like he ruined her or something, it was obviously an accident just as he said, right, Rey?” Rose looked up as she put her heel down, testing the strength of her foot.

“I, um,” she flushed, mortified, wishing that Ben had told her what was supposed to have happened before he had left, but she supposed he hadn’t counted on anyone reading over his mother’s shoulder.

“Ugh,” Rose walked up to her, taking her hands, “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, Poe’s just being awful for no good reason.”

“I am not,” Poe threw his hands up in an act of surrender, “It’s all in good fun, we’re adults here. Sorry if I just find the prospect of one of the most highly respected men born from one of the oldest noble, gentry families in the great British Empire drunkenly passing out and slobbering onto an innocent, unsuspecting young woman in the dead of night to be absolutely hilarious.”

“It isn’t really but I guess I can’t really stop you.”

“It is a _little_ funny, Rose.”

“Finn, don’t encourage him!”

“Wait,” Rey stopped their argument in its tracks, her eyes focused directly upon Poe Dameron, “noble family, you said?”

She had assumed Leia was simply the wealthy widow of a successful American tradesman, perhaps even the distant relative of a peer forced to attend country balls held by villages she’s sponsored.

“Yes...did you, uh, not know?” The man scratched at his head beneath his bowler, “You do know Leia is a duchess, right? And Ben-”

“Ben holds the dukedom-”

“Duke of Algernon, right?”

“No, it’s Alderaan, we were at the estate last Christmas, Finn.”

“Sorry if I don’t really care about made-up-”

Rey zoned their voices out.

A duke. She behaved like that, so wantonly, so casually in front of a man a step down from the crown prince himself, how could she have done that? How could she have been so dense? 

Then her stomach sank.

She and Ben, Lord Benjamin were as far apart in class as one could possibly be.

Rey Niima thought herself very much a fool. 

_His Grace, Lord Benjamin Organa-Solo, Duke of Alderaan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In regards to the dubious consent, Ben licks Rey's mating gland, scent-marking her, with her permission but she is not actually aware of what she is consenting to when he asks. I just wanted to be safe, haha
> 
> Most of you probably know me from Twitter anyway, but hey, if you want you can find me [there](https://twitter.com/theriseofswolo) !
> 
> Thank you for reading! 💖

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first multichap fic so hopefully it'll go well :,)


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